Andre wondered—not for the first time—if Niko’s opposition to any lessening of royal power and privilege had its roots in his assumption he might one day inherit the throne. But every time the thought occurred to Andre he dismissed its relevance. If anything happened to him, Zax was first in line. The brothers were only three years apart in age, and Zax was in far better physical shape than the self-indulgent Niko. It was highly unlikely Niko would outlive Zax, even assuming Andre had no heirs of his own body to supplant both Zax and Niko in the line of succession.
That train of thought led directly to Juliana, and Andre sighed inwardly without letting it show on his face. He’d planned to drop in on the filming this afternoon, but it was highly unlikely that would happen now. Not unless the Privy Council could get off the stick and reach a resolution.
* * *
Dirk caught Juliana and lifted her effortlessly into his strong arms, cradled her, then carried her the few steps to the massive bed. He laid her gently down, kissed her tenderly, then lifted his head to bellow for the servants and the midwife.
“And cut!” the director said. He glanced at his watch. “And I guess that’s a wrap for today,” he said with reluctance.
Dirk grinned down at Juliana as a flurry of work went on around them. “Oh, my aching back,” he told her, pretending her featherweight had given him a backache.
“Ha ha ha,” she responded, struggling to sit up, the bulky padding she was wearing to simulate a late-term pregnancy giving her trouble. “It’s not my fault we had to do that scene six times.”
The first take, Juliana’s special padding had shifted noticeably and alarmingly just as Dirk placed her on the bed, and he’d dissolved into laughter. An extra strap had been added to Juliana’s gear to prevent that from happening again. One of the arc lights had gone out during the second take before he’d taken two steps, and they’d had to wait while that was replaced. The third take, Dirk had stumbled and almost dropped her, making her yelp, then giggle. One of the overhead microphones had unexpectedly shown up in the main camera shot just as the camera was panning out during the fourth take, and that had involved much cursing and pointing the finger of blame.
The fifth take had been a near disaster when one of the overhead lights had inexplicably come crashing down in the middle of the bed, right before Dirk was to place Juliana in it. If they’d been two feet closer, Juliana, and most likely Dirk, too, would have been seriously injured or killed by the impact. That had taken almost an hour to repair—especially picking the glass out of the bedding and off the floor where it had scattered in all directions—and both the director and the producer had been furious. The director because of the delay; the producer because of how this might affect the insurance on the film. The producer was still fuming, vowing to fire whomever had been so criminally negligent, but everyone in earshot was disavowing responsibility.
Juliana had shrugged it off; Dirk not so much. Accidents happened no matter how careful people were, but as a man who’d gotten his start in movies as a stuntman, Dirk had never been one to leave things to chance. Juliana had caught him eyeing the lighting setup a few times while the cleanup went on around them, as if trying to figure out exactly how it had happened.
By the sixth take everyone in camera range except Dirk and Juliana was holding his or her breath, wondering what would go wrong this time. But the sixth take had worked like a charm, from Juliana’s initial gasp of pain as labor started, to Dirk’s final bellow. The scene that would end up as roughly thirty seconds in the final cut had taken the remainder of the afternoon to film.
Dirk put his arm around Juliana’s shoulders, helping her to straighten up. “Is it really that awkward?” he asked. “Pregnancy, I mean.”
Juliana laughed. “I can’t speak from experience, but that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve had friends tell me it’s like carrying around a bowling ball. But you’ll know soon enough when Bree—” She stopped abruptly, realizing she had no idea if Sabrina would be able to go full term.
Juliana and Dirk had been shooting on location for almost ten weeks, which meant her friend was nearly five months pregnant and definitely showing. Sabrina had finally confided in Juliana about her pregnancy, but she hadn’t mentioned one word about the cancer, and Juliana—true to her word to Dirk—hadn’t said anything, either. But things had been going well for Sabrina so far, and Juliana was praying they’d stay that way, that her friend would safely deliver her baby four months from now.
Dirk’s expression turned troubled. “I hope you’re right,” he said roughly. “Because it’s not one baby she’s carrying. We just found out it’s twins. And because there’s a tendency toward premature delivery with chemo, she’s resisting that idea, even though she’s now safely in her second trimester and doesn’t have to worry about the chemo causing birth defects.”